Forsaken
by Larensdestiel
Summary: Tag to S7. Dean remembers what it was like when He was still there, and isn't so sure he can deal with the loss of someone he loved that much. EmotionallyHurt!Dean Destiel Spoilers up to Season 7! Please R&R


**-Okay, first shot at a Destiel fic! Let me know what you guys think, okay? M for language, sorry-**

**Forsaken**

It smells like him. God, I can't believe how much it smells like him. If I close my eyes and concentrate hard enough it's like he's right there. I can almost feel him breathing sometimes…sometimes.

It's fucked up, I know. Falling in lo- having feelings for an _angel_. It's not my fault though…is it? I mean the way he looked at me, the way he talked to me, the way his skin felt when I touched him-

"GOD DAMN IT!" I slammed my fists on the hood of my car, hot tears stinging my eyes. I'm not gay. I'm not. It was just him, just Cas…it was always Cas.

I got him back for a minute. He was bloody and dying, so guilty it hurt to look at him. Then I lost him and then he was back and healed and beautiful and there and they took him away from me! He wanted to make it up to me, he wanted to show me how sorry he was and I never got the chance to say that he didn't have to. I knew he was sorry, I could tell he was. He didn't have to show me anything; I just wanted to hold him and never let him go. I know how that sounds and I understand it's not the manliest thing in the world to say, but it's true.

So standing here, holding his coat, remembering what it was like before he was gone was enough to kill me. I never really thought you could die from heartbreak before, not until now.

"Cas-"

"Shh," he'd said, shaking his head. No words. His eyes told me that. Man, that sounds corny as fuck, but it was true. "Don't speak," he whispered. "Just…"

I couldn't take it. I couldn't take looking at him and staring at his lips and wanting to show him how I felt because my mouth wouldn't work right and say what I wanted to. So I kissed him.

God, it felt good, it felt so good. The way he tasted, the way his curious and inexperienced mouth worked with mine, hands clutching onto my back, heart pounding because he had no idea what he was doing or what he was feeling. He gave the softest moan, the rigid muscles in his jaw finally relaxing enough to let me _really_ kiss him and show him what I felt.

He gasped, cheeks pink when we broke apart, staring at me with his wide eyes. "Do you understand?" I breathed. "You understand how I feel now?"

"Yes," he choked, voice breaking, breath uneven. He leaned toward me very suddenly, crushing his lips to mine, holding the back of my head to keep me still. I nearly passed out, stupid as that is, feeling the desperation in every touch, knowing that I meant just as much to him as he did to me.

"This is wrong," I said, my forehead pressing against his.

"Does it really matter?" He asked, just as winded. "I don't exactly fit the 'angel' mold anymore. I've fallen, Dean, you know that." He stared at me, his eyes bright even in the dark. "Do you not want this? Do you not want me?"

"Don't be stupid," I spat. "Of course I do, why else would I…?" I couldn't say it, not then. He ducked his head under my chin, nose barely touching my skin before he kissed my neck. Just one, soft, careful kiss on my neck. I shivered against my will. He'd kill me.

"So this, this is okay?" I croaked.

"Yes, this is, this is very okay," he said softly. We were kissing again. God help us, we couldn't stop. My hands went inside his blazer, squeezing him tight. I needed to know this was real. I needed to know that he was really there and this was really happening and he wanted this just as much as I did.

We broke apart, leaving me hovering over his lips, finding the strength to hold myself back. "Cas," I breathed, shutting my eyes when he kissed my neck again. "Cas, we've gotta keep this a secret, okay? If anyone found out-"

"They won't," he assured. "Our relationship can be a secret."

The rest is history.

I remember one night I had really bad nightmares, awful ones, relentless and never ending. Sam was nowhere in sight, off with Ruby somewhere doing god knows what.

I was up and down all night, sometimes pissed, sometimes terrified, sometimes crying without any say about it.

And that's what I was doing when he came. I was crying so hard I couldn't breathe, afraid of everything that moved and begging for my little brother to come back for me.

I felt arms wrap around me, rubbing my back and holding my face. "Shh, Dean. It's alright, you're not there anymore. They can't hurt you, anymore."

"Th-the demons, Cas," I gulped. "And the knife and- oh God, Cas…" He held me, shushing me, lips beside my ear. It was the only comfort I had, and God I wanted it.

"I know, I know. They can't hurt you, Dean. They can't touch you anymore. Not while I'm here. I've got you," he whispered. "Hush…hush…"

"I can't breathe," I gasped, chest tight, eyes closed. He pulled me close, guiding me so I was laying down again. He held my close, still so gentle and warm.

"Breathe with me, Dean," he said softly. I closed my eyes, concentrating on the slow, steady rise and fall of his chest. "Shh, there. Breathe slowly, keep breathing slowly. I'm here." He rubbed my back and kissed my cheek.

"Thank you," I whimpered. He shook his head, holding my face.

"I'm only doing what you deserve," he explained. "Whether you think deserve it or not."

I remember everything about him; the way he tasted how he smelled, how he held me, how he fit in my arms. This past year without him killed me. I was starting to forget things. Little stuff. Like his laugh. How he spoke. How his hand felt in mine.

The first time we… Well, that remains crystal clear in my mind, and always will.

He never called it sex. When he talked about it in general he used words like copulation, coitus, intercourse and relations. When he talked about in terms of the two of us, he always, _always _said making love. It wasn't a formal term he usually used, and his voice, his tone when he said it was so full of caring and want that I…

I was just as scared as he was, maybe more. I was looking him, a dude, in the face, and wanting to, well to do him. I knew I had to take it slow; this was his first time with anyone and I knew how scary that could be, especially now.

"I don't know how to do this," he admitted, voice a soft squeak, shirt open, breath shaking. "I don't know how to please you, Dean. I kept my hand on his cheek, heart pounding.

"It's okay," I assured. "I've never done this before either. Not with a dude, anyway."

I remember touching him for the first time, feeling him breathe, watching every blink of those big eyes, memorizing every muscle.

His hands clambered all over my, feeling clumsily, trying to take it all in. "Cas, breathe," I chuckled. He smiled a little, just a twitch at the corner of his mouth, taking in deep gulps of air that he forgot his vessel needed. "I've got you, okay? I'm here."

I started to realize what he liked, listening to unbridled noises that escaped his swelling lips when I grazed his sides and kissed his neck. "Like this? I asked, gently sucking on his Adam's apple and thumbing his sides. In a breathy, innocent voice, he yelped,

"Yes!"

"Shh, easy, easy," I soothed.

Cas hadn't seen what society had done to sex. He didn't know didn't know the sounds dudes were supposed to make and what chicks were.

He didn't know not to whisper, "Dean, this…this is wonderful" or "I've never felt like this before" or "Never let me go, please don't let me go." He apologized before and after, like clockwork, saying "I'm sorry I cannot please you the way you please me" and "Dean, I'm not good at this. I don't know how to do this." Funny thing was, I thought he was amazing. He always was and always would be.

I didn't want him to learn anything. If he knew guys don't whimper and yelp and beg for more or ask for a kiss it wouldn't be the same. If he knew what he was doing his voice and his emotions wouldn't be the same. He wouldn't let himself be so raw, so vulnerable and so trusting in my arms. Those sparkling eyes wouldn't look at me the same, and I definitely wouldn't let myself be so exposed with him.

Cas didn't judge me. He didn't tell me I was doing something wrong, or that he didn't like it a certain way. He didn't demand or look at me if I made a funny noise or something. No, no if he knew that I was on the verge of breaking, of falling apart before his eyes he would gently put his hand on my shoulder, right on the handprint that kept me tethered to him and say very softly, "it's alright, Dean."

I stared down at the coat, eyes blurred with hot tears, absently touching my shoulder. I thought somehow it would always bring it back to me. Somehow, it would always bring him back.

Not this time. It'd been over a year and I'd never heard a whisper from him. I was scared. What if he was really gone? What if he never came back? What if that was the last time I would ever see him? I shut my eyes. He looked at me, ashamed, hurt and begging for forgiveness.

"I mean it, Dean."

"Okay." I said it…I said it because I had already forgiven him. I forgave him when he showed up, bloody and dying in that room. I couldn't stop myself from forgiving him, I would never be able to that I lo-

…

It's hard for me to say. So freakin' hard. I don't trust people, I don't. Opening up like that, telling him how I felt about him was the most difficult thing I'd ever done. I mean, I told him I cared about him, but it took me forever to take out the L world.

I should have said it sooner. I know I should have. But I waited. I waited until I was almost certain I wouldn't make it out of a situation, that I was pretty much dead already. Facing Lucifer himself with noting but my brother, a spell and my stupid mouth didn't leave room for survival.

Sam was gulping down enough demon blood to drown Dracula, leaving me, Cas and Bobby to stand away and wait. I swallowed hard, butterflies, _fucking __butterflies_ in my stomach, mouth dry, palms sweaty. Fuckin' girl…

"Can I talk to you for a second," I whispered, tugging his sleeve, staring at Bobby's back to make sure he didn't see. He nodded, following me into a nearby alley, cocking his head, looking at me with those curious, big, amazing blue eyes.

"Something wrong?" He asked. Human or not, night or day they just…they fuckin' _sparkled_.

"No, no, baby," I breathed, wincing. God, I'd just said… I shook my head. "I mean, uh, no. I just…" I held his face, tentatively at first, fingertips just barely touching his jaw before spreading to his cheek. "I'm probably not gonna make it through this. And…if I don't, I-" Damn it, you fucking coward, just _say__it_! "I want you to know, I…I love you."

He jumped back, literally jumped, staring at me, lips slightly parted, those pretty eyes wide.

"You do?"

"Yes," I sighed, exasperated. "I have for awhile. I…I didn't want to go in there without you knowing for sure. Without hearing me say it." God, his eyes.

"I love you too." All I needed.

I kissed him like I never would again, suckling his lips, holding him with desperation I'd never allowed anyone to see before. He gasped, holding my face, holding just as much want as I did. I tangled my fingers in his hair, breathing hard and deep. I loved him. And I wasn't afraid to admit it anymore.

I held him for a moment after we stopped kissing, just breathing in what he smelled like and how he felt.

"I love you," I repeated. "I love you, I love you, I love you." He smiled against my neck.

"I love you too."

"Be careful if…if I don't make it. Humanity's a bitch," I tried to smile. "And don't let some broad with blonde hair and an alto voice screw you over," I teased. He stared at me, those eyes welling with tears.

"I don't want anyone else, Dean. I just want you. I will always just want you." I kissed him again.

"You don't have to do that," I whispered.

"I know." I held him for a moment, sighing. He looked at me, optimism in his eyes. "I'll come and find you in Heav-"

He stopped, sadness slamming him again. He bowed his head, squeezing me. He wasn't an angel anymore.

"It'll be okay," I soothed. "It's okay, baby."

I didn't die, then, but in the next few days I wish I had. Especially when I watched him explode.

But he came back. He _always_ came back, why is this time any different? He came back after we tricked Zachariah and killed him…

He held the box-cutter out to us. I stared at him, shaking my head. "No." He looked at me.

"Dean, it's the only way."

"No."

"Dean, I cannot do it myself. I need you or Sam to do it…please." I stared at him, knowing he wanted me to do it. Sam looked between us, lost.

"I…I'll do it," he said.

"No," my reaction was almost immediate. "I know how to use it without…" I trailed off, staring in his eyes. _Without __making __it __hurt __so __much_. "I've been trained how do use it, Sam."

He sighed. "Alright, I'll go check the perimeter again." He walked away.

He stared at me, eyes watery, pressing the blade into my hand. "I want you to do it because-"

"Yeah, I know," I spat. He shook his head, sadder than before.

"Not because of your skills acquired in Hell, Dean, because you will be gentler than Sam. If you do it you…you'll hold me and kiss me…and make it hurt less," he whispered. My chest ached. "Please, don't deny me that, Dean. Please."

Damn him.

I went back to the car with him, making sure Sam was nowhere in sight. I carefully undid the buttons on his shirt, staring at his bared and innocent skin covered in goosebumps from the chill, never been touched, never been tortured. And I was about to. God…

"I can't," I breathed. He winced.

"Why not?" He asked, lips shaking. Don't look at me like that, damn it.

"I can't hurt you, Cas, I just can't." He leaned against my neck, a tear or two leaking to his cheek. He was shaking.

"Dean, please, the anticipation of this frightens me. I just want it to be over with. Please, allow me peace. Please."

Damn him…twice.

What choice did I have? How could I say no to that scared and quaking voice. "Okay," I whispered, holding him. "Okay, come here."

I kissed him, making the first cut, hating myself for doing this to him. "I'm sorry," I said, continuing it. I cradled him, kissing his neck, holding his back. He hissed, winced and whimpered, scared. So very, very scared. "Cas, I'm so, so sorry."

"I-it's alright, mmf!"

It took so long, too long to finish. "It's okay, baby. It's okay…" I add the pet-name because I know he needs it. Then finally, _finally_ it's done. I take the tie from his fingers that he's been squeezing so tight his nails bled to keep from hurting me. I wish he would have. "I'm done, I'm done now," I said softly. He gasps, breath hot on my neck.

"It hurts," he manages.

"I know, I know. Just give it a minute, okay? Shh…" It only took a few minutes for it to heal over. He sighed, looking at me. "I'm gonna keep this," I gestured to the tie. "Ya know, in case…" He kissed me, nodding against my cheek.

I never wanted to hurt him like that. I never wanted him to sacrifice himself for me. Not again, once was enough. It was enough… But he disappeared again.

Good _God_ when he came back. Human. Normal.

"I'm human," he sighed, Pestilence and Croats behind us, Death's ring buried with the others in my bag. "I'm weak."

"Sam said you did pretty good at the warehouse," I offered. He shook his head.

"Luck," he mumbled. "I'm useless, Dean." He looked ashamed.

"Not entirely," I whispered. I pulled him to me, backing him against the wall before cupping his cheek. "You're _human_, Cas. Do you understand what that means?" He stared at me. I shook my head, planting a deep kiss on him. "It means that this isn't as fucked up as usual."

"Oh…" He cooed. Then, very suddenly, he was latched onto me, kissing me as hard as he could, suckling my lips, holding me tight. His hands clutched my jacket, feeling my chest through my shirt, stammering and confused. I missed him so much. I missed these lips, so soft and warm and compliant with mine.

"Cas," I breathed.

"Show me how to be human, Dean," he begged. "Please show me what that means…" He stared at me, eyes slicing through me. "Please."

We were on the bed, holding one another, breathing hard, choking on the feel of each other. He kissed and touched on impulse, unsure as to what he should do, feeling entirely knew again in his mortality. "Like this, right?" He wondered aloud, lips against my pulse. I gasped a little.

"Yes," I nodded. "Bite a little." He did, but too hard. I hardly noticed.

"What-what about Sam?" He gulped, pulling my shirt over my head.

"He's with Bobby, he won't be here. He won't-" I cut myself off, unable to stay away from him.

More soft and wonderful touches from inexperienced hands made clumsy by humanity. I could feel his new vulnerabilities as I touched him, and I wanted to feel every inch of him, just to remind myself he was here, and that he was mine again. I was insured with that when he touched my shoulder again.

"You scared me," I whispered, pressing my lips to a certain spot behind his ear, one that drove him friggin' nuts. He yelped, eyes shut for a minute. "I thought I lost you."

"I'll never leave you again, Dean," he swore. "I'll always be here for you." And he kissed me.

I looked up, tears angry now.

"YOU LIAR!" I screamed. "YOU FUCKING LIAR!"

I sank to my knees, sobbing hard, still holding that goddamn coat, unable to breathe.

"Dean."

I froze. No. No.

I looked up.

There he was. Statuesque, pristine and…and perfect. Just like before. He looked at me, pain in his eyes that glowed even in this darkness.

"Cas?" I gulped. No, no, this couldn't be true. This couldn't be, he couldn't be real.

He didn't help me up. He sank to his knees, wrapping his arms around me, to soothe me, to prove to me that he was _right __there_ for me. The faint smell that was on the trench coat was right in my nose again. I took it in, feeling his warmth and wonderful heartbeat against mine. And I was still crying. I couldn't help it. The coat squeezed between us, almost forgotten.

"I'm so sorry, Dean," he breathed. "I'm sorry I left you. I will never leave you again, I swear it."

"You were gone for so long," I choked. "I didn't…" He lifted my chin, kissing me softly. I let him. He tasted the same.

"I'm here now." He felt so safe…so warm…so alive. "Dean…Dean…Dean…" I looked up at him.

"Dean…" He stared back at me. "Dean, wake up."

I jolted awake, meeting my little brother's eyes. "Dean, come inside, you'll freeze," he said softly, eyes pained.

I was slumped in the driver's seat, the coat still clutched and wrinkled in my hands, the ghost of his arms still surrounding me.

I didn't care what Sam thought, or what he found out in this moment, but I broke down, crying so hard I might have been screaming. I could have puked at some point, and I think Sam was holding me for a minute.

My face was in his trench coat, praying with all my might, screaming his name until I couldn't speak anymore. "I had him back, Sammy!" I bawled. "WHY DID YOU WAKE ME UP?" He held me, shutting his eyes.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Dean."

I collapsed, no pride, no shame, no hope.

"Cas…" And, even though I knew he never would, I begged. "Come back."

**END**


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